


spring's bloom of wildflowers

by accolades



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Implied Chloe Decker/Marcus Pierce, Lucifer-centric, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 15:51:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17831555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accolades/pseuds/accolades
Summary: Chloe is getting married. It's not to Lucifer.





	spring's bloom of wildflowers

  
  


It is dawn at 6:47 am. White clouds entangle with the softness of the blush-pink sky and the quietness of gentle, springtime yellow. Mixes with the warm, faint orange of the Earth’s little ball of heaven, brightens the sky as far as the wide horizon will allow it. The calmness of pale, summer blue is absent from the universe right now; there is only warmth and love unifying in the atmosphere, so pleasantly pink and sweetly sunny that it drowns out the Morningstar that blesses it with life. 

 

It is dawn at 6:50 am, and Lucifer is smoking a cigarette and staring blankly through the shining glass of his balcony, at the sun and its daybreak and all of the blushing that has come with it. He remembers creating it and feels a sad, nostalgic, and wistful wind whoosh through his wasteland ribs and withering lungs. He takes a long drag, tastes the ashy smoke on his dry tongue, and holds it in for so long his immortal eyes go black and hazy around the edges and he coughs up combusting gray air. Saliva drips from his cherry lips while he hacks and chokes, splatters onto the dark floor like water drops or blood. He wipes his wet mouth on the edge of his silk robe. Lets the cigarette ash fall onto his thigh and watches as it tries to burn his fire-hardened skin; it eventually drifts away when the AC kicks on. Lucifer goes back to staring at the sun. 

 

He stares and he stares, and when his view gets watery and blinking doesn’t help, when his phone vibrates on the polished mahogany next to him, he grips his ankles as he continues to sit in his crisscrossed manner and he keeps his eyes ever-so focused on the brightness of the morningstar, the strikingly human beauty it. He sits and he stares and he holds his golden body up by clutching at his legs for stability, and when his phone stops vibrating and his eyes keep watering, he blinks harshly, stops staring at the sun, reaches blindly for his bottle of whiskey and drinks until it’s empty. 

 

He goes back to staring at the sun, but his trance is broken. The burn in his eyes does not burn enough for him to focus on, and the nostalgia seeps back in but this time it’s different, and the whiskey burns his throat in a way it rarely does, and he thinks the pain makes him human. He hopes the pain makes him human. He is so sad and so pathetic, his vibrant brown eyes usually so full of hellfire now so dull and muddy, face prickly and red, eyebags so dark not even makeup could fix them.

 

His throat burns, and he cries.

 

It is not really dawn anymore. 11:14 am is more early noon, happy birds chirping in tall trees, flowers preening under the new-day sunlight spilling from the leaves time. The sky no longer holds pink in it, only summertime blue and high and mighty clouds that were once spun from his brother’s hands. He wonders what they’re doing in the Silver City. Wonders why he still cares. He thinks he doesn’t, sometimes, when he can feel the breeze in his hair as he speeds down the country roads of California, when he dances under the moonlight and plays soft tunes on the piano and sings his stupidly immortal heart out for his entire club to hear, when he falls in love with humanity a little more each day. 

 

When he falls in love with Chloe.

 

His phone vibrates again. He lights another cigarette, takes a too-long drag and lets the smoke billow slowly out of his rounded mouth. His eyes burn and his skin prickles, feels like needles are poking him from the inside. He ignores the caller, looks back outside. Stares forlornly through the clear glass, looks up high and gets lost in the sky. 

 

He wonders how Chloe’s wedding is going; wonders how she feels that her best man never arrived. 

**Author's Note:**

> basically i binge-watched the show and i havent written fanfiction in so long please be kind i am sensitive


End file.
